


Corazón no Cabezón

by cortexikid



Series: Schneider’s Choice [2]
Category: One Day at a Time (TV 2017)
Genre: Avery not-so-gently reminds him, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Schneider doesn't realise just how much time he spends with the Alvarezes, anxiety and depression, continuation of Schneider's Choice series, discussions of alcoholism, reading part one isn't essential to read part two but is recommended and appreciated anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 16:09:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cortexikid/pseuds/cortexikid
Summary: “You talk at length about your demons at 3:30 in the morning with Penelope and then lie about it. Why is that, Schneider? Why is it that you’d rather confide in her, spend your time with her, and her family, whenI’mthe one you’ve said you love and want to be with?”His heart was in his throat. His eyes burned with unshed tears as he saw Avery begin to cry, her dark eyes large and shimmery behind her glasses, as she caught her breath, clearly not done.“I think you need space to figure out what you really want, Schneider. Me? Or the Alvarezes.”





	Corazón no Cabezón

**Author's Note:**

> So this became...a thing. A giant, whole lot bigger thing than I intended. Reading part one first isn't essential, but recommended and appreciated anyway. Hope you enjoy :)

 

 

“Crap, Schneider. It really hurts.”

 

“I know dude, just hold on. I got ya.”

 

He carefully bundled a noticeably pale Alex into the backseat of his car, coaxing a frazzled Lydia in after him.

 

“Ay, my poor papito! Keep it elevated, mi amor. We’ll be there soon. Step on it, Schneider.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

They had been stuck in traffic for seven minutes when Schneider suddenly remembered. With a sigh, he took out his phone and dialed the familiar number, a knot in his stomach.

 

“What do you mean you’re not coming?”

 

“I’m sorry Ave, I really am but—Alex needs me. I think his arm is broken and we’re on our way to the ER right now. I can’t get a hold of Pen, she must be with a patient, and—”

 

“I thought Lydia was with you? Can’t she go with him to the ER?”

Schneider pressed the phone closer to his ear as he looked over his shoulder at the clearly in pain Alex, and the even more clearly distraught Lydia.

 

“He’s her papito, Ave. She’s barely keeping it together as it is. They need me here. We can have dinner with your friends another night, right?”

 

The pause on the other end of the phone was so long that Schneider feared that they had been disconnected.

 

“Ave—”

 

“I get it, Alex needs you. Give him my best and keep me updated. We can—I’ll try and reschedule the double-date.”

 

The call really did disconnect then.

 

An uncomfortable feeling sank in the pit of Schneider stomach, but before he could reflect on it, his cell started ringing again, a familiar name flashing up on the screen. With another glance at two of the four Alvarezes, he picked up:

 

“Hey Pen, try not to worry. I got everything under control…yep, yeah, we’ll be there in five minutes.”

 

~*~

 

“I can’t do this.”

 

“You can totally do this.”

 

“No, Schneider, I can’t. I really, really can’t.”

 

“Elena.”

 

The young girl’s breath was becoming more shallow and uneven, her eyes bulging a little behind her signature frames.

 

Schneider gently clasped her hand, taking a deep breath in, holding it, and then releasing it slowly.

 

“Come on, girl, you got this. Deep breaths. In, and out. In, and out.”

 

“I’m anxious, not pregnant, Schneider.”

He snorted, “Now that _would be_ an immaculate conception. Can you imagine Lydia?”

 

Elena gasped out a laugh, her shoulders shaking with mirth now, rather than anxiety as she mimicked her grandmother, “Ay, es un milagro! Jesús has come again!”

 

Schneider smiled as the teen threw back her head, it thumping gently against the couch, clearly tickled at the image they had conjured of Lydia. It had been a long day, Schneider taking Elena duty as she did the last of the preparations for her SATs. It had been laden with ups and downs, mostly downs as she fought anxiety attack after anxiety attack, but as morning became evening, Schneider felt as if they had made some progress.

 

“I’m proud of you, kid.”

 

The words just slipped out, before Schneider had even fully formed them in his mind.

 

Elena turned her puzzled expression towards him, “For what? My admittedly uncanny impression of abuelita?”

 

Schneider felt the familiar buzz of a text message against his leg where he knew his phone lay in his jeans pocket.

 

“Well yeah, that too. You may have a career in acting if you keep that up,” he joked, nudging her shoulder with his before shaking his head, “but also, I’m proud of you for everything you’ve accomplished. Especially in the last few years. Coming out, everything with dad, your impressive grades, passing your driver’s test, your relationship with your Syd-nificant Other, dealing with your anxiety…” he trailed off, feeling another buzz, “You’re a rockstar, Elena. You’re gonna ace the SATs.”

 

The teen looked stunned. But her shock soon melted into something else as she leaped forward and gave Schneider a bone-crushing hug.

 

“Thanks, Schneider,” her response muffled from where she had her face pressed against his shoulder, “You’re the best. And for what it’s worth? I’m proud of you too.”

 

Warmth seeped into Schneider’s chest, his throat suddenly tight.

 

“That’s worth a lot, kid.”

 

After a moment, they broke away, Elena’s eyebrows furrowing as the vibrating sound reverberated around the room.

 

“Is that your phone?”

 

Schneider nodded, “It’s no biggie. I’ll call them back. Now, hand me those flash cards.”

 

~*~

 

“Oh my god, enchiladas? _THE_ enchiladas?! Oh dude, I’m there.”

 

“Are you face-timing with Alex?” Avery asked, looking over Schneider’s shoulder from where he sat on his couch, phone in hand, and catching a glimpse at a teenager with his left arm in a sling.

 

“Hi Avery!” A tinny voice omitted from the phone.

 

She smiled, “Hi, Alex. How’s the arm?”

 

The teen shrugged, then winced at his mistake, “It’s getting better, thanks. Abuelita is making her enchiladas to make me feel better. Schneider always threatens to get his hacker friend to delete my Finsta when I don’t tell him, so…you guys wanna come over for dinner?”

 

Schneider managed to reign in his frown. Avery had already made plans to make them her vegan casserole, but looking at the noticeably-less-suave teen, he felt a pang of guilt leaving him hanging. He threw a look at Avery, who seemed to be studying him. Nodding, he turned back to his phone.  

 

“Thanks for the offer bud, but—”

 

“We could bring dessert?”

 

Schneider gaped at her, a bundle of unbridled joy bursting in his chest as he threw his arms around her in a big bear-hug.

 

Lydia’s enchiladas were calling. And Alex. Also, Alex. Alex who he couldn’t wait to watch get fussed over by his worried grandmother, exasperated mother and unimpressed sister. He made a mental note to grab the kid’s favourite pint of Ben and Jerry’s from his freezer. Avery _did_ say they would bring dessert.

 

“Set the table for two more, dude. We’ll be there in five.”

 

~*~

 

She was at his door.

 

She was at his door and it was 3am.

 

She was at his door and it was 3am and she was crying.

 

With barely a glance over his shoulder, he ushered her in with a soft, “C’mere, Pen,” and soon found himself being crushed in the familiar bear-hug of his 5’1” best friend, her face pressing into his lower chest.

 

He could feel the dampness of her cheeks against his sleep-shirt as he gently closed his door and led her over to his couch, slowly easing them both down, laying a palm over hers, where her small fist had trapped the fabric of his old, grey Henley.

 

“Bad dream?” He asked softly, his lips accidentally brushing her hair (that was piled on top of her head in a loose bun) as he spoke.

 

She nodded, ever so slightly, her nose bumping up against the slope of his neck. Schneider’s stomach twisted, a coil of something not uncomfortable, but not welcome either, settling in the depths of his abdomen. He mentally shook himself, focusing on the task at hand. His best friend needed him.

 

“Wanna talk about it?”

 

They sat in silence for a moment, the only noise in his living room being her soft sniffles as she fought to compose herself enough to speak.

 

“I was back there,” she croaked, her fist tightening in his shirt, “I was back there and panicking and didn’t have dogs in wigs to calm me down.”

 

A dart of pain shot through Schneider at her words. She was so brave, a hero, _his_ hero, but she still had to struggle every day. It wasn’t fair.

 

“You’re safe now, Pen. You’re home,” he replied quietly but firmly, wincing as he corrected, “Well, your home is downstairs but, you know what—”

 

She cut him off with another nod. This one stronger.

 

“I know. It’s just…sometimes when I close my eyes, it’s like—it’s like I’ve teleported back there. Like I blink and my bed is gone, my home, my safety is gone. And I’m alone. And then I wake up, back in my bed, in my home, safe, but I’m still…alone. I—It gets too quiet at night, Schneider.”

 

Now that, he understood.

 

“I used to hate going to bed drunk.”

 

Gently, Penelope raised her head a little, to look at his face. He fought hard to look her in the eye as he continued.

 

“I used to try and sober up sometimes,” he murmured, a pit of nausea settling in his stomach as he remembered those difficult nights, “Before collapsing into bed because I…I couldn’t bear how it felt to be on my own. Wasted. The whole world around me spinning and feeling like I was the only one with motion sickness. And waking up, god, that was the icing on the cake because not only was I alone, but I felt like death, inside and out. There’s nothing more pathetic than a hungover mess in a quiet, dark apartment.”

 

Penelope unclenched her fist from his shirt to catch his hand, squeezing gently.

 

That was when Schneider felt the hot trail of a tear sliding down his cheek.

 

“Crap, sorry Pen,” He sniffled, clearing his throat, breaking eye-contact, “I’m doing a terrible job of cheering you up.”

 

“No,” she shook her head, “No it’s—it’s good knowing that I’m not the only one that gets it.”

 

There was weight in those words. He could hear it. Feel it.

 

He shifted on the couch, thumb brushing against her knuckle.

 

“I’m not like you though, Penelope. What…what you went through, _go_ through is…” he was lost for words, unsure how to fully encapsulate the sheer abundance of terror, pain and suffering she had endured during her tours, and since coming home, “it’s different. I’m just a drunk with abandonment issues.  You’re a frickin’ hero.”

 

She leaned in closer to him then, a hand lifting up to tilt his jaw back in her direction, silently imploring him to look at her.

 

Like he could ever deny her anything.

 

“It may not be the same circumstances, Schneider. But the feelings? The emotions? They’re the same. How I feel, when I’m anxious and depressed, it _is_ like the whole world is spinning and I’m the only one puking. The apartment _does_ feel too quiet even when Mami’s playing her tunes and Alex and Elena are at each other’s throats. It’s like every drop of colour from my surroundings seeps away until it’s all grey and dark. You—” she gently poked his chest with her free hand, “ _You_ get that.”

 

There was a beat, where she nodded as if she had won some mental-argument with herself, finger pressing more firmly into his chest.

 

“You get _me_ , Schneider. In a way I don’t think anyone ever has.”

 

He stopped breathing. The weight of that statement sinking in to his very soul.

 

“You get me too, Pen. Better than anyone.”

 

The words fell from his lips without conscious effort. He didn’t have to think about them because they were so true, woven into the fabric of their friendship, and had been a constant for more than a while now. Still, he felt relieved to finally say them out loud.

 

The smile on her face was a pretty nice bonus too.

 

“We’re saps,” she chuckled, reaching up to wipe away a rouge tear from her cheek.

 

“Oh total saps,” he agreed, “the sappiest. But we hide it well, I think.”

 

She leveled him with a look that screamed disbelief.

 

“Okay,” he conceded with a roll of his eyes, “ _You_ hide it well.”

 

“Damn right.”

 

They shared another soft grin, before Penelope glanced at her watch, shaking her head again, her curls becoming even more loose from her haphazard bun, “I’m sorry for waking you, Schneider. God, it’s nearly three thirty. I should—”

 

She went to stand up but he reached out, gently touching her arm.

 

“You sure you’re okay? I can put on some cocoa, or—”

 

She silenced him with another shake of her head. He watched as a curl fell from behind her ear and bounced a little by her cheek.

 

“No, I’m good. Thanks though, Schneider. I mean it. I owe you.”

  

He stood up, shuffling to the door with her.

 

“You don’t owe me anything, Pen. That’s what friends are for.”

 

She gave him another small smile as he opened the door and she lingered a little outside, her face a myriad of expressions.

 

“I don’t say this enough. But you really are my best friend, Schneider. The best I’ve ever had.”

 

And he thought he had stopped breathing before.

 

“Right…right back at ya, bestie,” he forced out in a wheeze, gripping the door for support.

 

She leaned up on her tip-toes and brushed a kiss to his cheek so quickly that he was almost convinced his over-tired brain imagined it.

 

“Night, bestie.”

 

And with that, she strode down the hallway, back straighter and head held higher than when she came.

 

“Night…” he called out quietly after her before gently closing the door and leaning his forehead against it, eyes falling shut.

 

After a beat or two, he forced himself to lock up and step gingerly back across his living room, into his bedroom, where he was surprised to see Avery sitting up in his bed, the soft glow of the lamp making her seem a lot more alert than someone who had supposedly just been sleeping.

 

“Sorry hun, didn’t mean to wake ya,” he whispered as he made his way around the bed and down onto the right side.

 

“That’s okay,” she replied in a tone he couldn’t recognise, “Penelope okay?”

 

He whirled around, heart speeding up.

 

“Oh, uh yeah she—there’s a leak in her bathroom and she wanted to tell me asap so I could get right on it in the morning.”

 

The lie was disturbingly easy to say, if a little harder to believe.

 

But Avery merely nodded, her lips raising in an approximation of a smile.

 

“Glad you guys worked it out.”

 

With that, she lay back down, reaching out to the lamp switch and plunging them into darkness.

 

Schneider sat for a moment in the dark, his eyes unable to focus as he tried to will away that old motion-sickness feeling that had begun to form in the pit of his stomach.

 

He wasn’t drunk.

 

He wasn’t alone.

 

He had no reason to feel like he was.

 

And yet…

 

~*~

 

“You look amazing,” he breathed as she beamed at him, her midnight blue gown sparkling against the soft light of his apartment.

 

“Thank you,” Avery replied, giving him a tiny curtsy before chuckling, “You don’t look half-bad yourself.”

 

He rolled his eyes, waving a hand dismissively. If he was being honest, he hated wearing his suits. Actively avoided it over the years, only caving for events like Elena’s quinces and Victor’s wedding. But even he had to admit, they looked cute in their making shades of dark blue.

 

“You don’t need to be nervous, Schneider,” Avery assured him, taking a step closer and reaching up to fix his tie, “They’re going to love you.”

 

His stomach lurched a little with nerves. This was a big deal. Meeting Avery’s parents had been a long time coming. They had made attempts before but as they traveled so much, the stars hadn’t quite aligned until now.

 

“A night at the opera,” he forced a smile on his face, hoping for a ‘fake it till you make it’ type of deal, “Coincidentally, also my favorite Queen album.”

 

She shook her head in exasperation, pushing him gently towards the door, “Alright, Dane Cook, leave some jokes for my folks.”

 

Schneider winced, but allowed himself to be manhandled, or womanhandled in this case, _“Dane Cook?!_ Seriously? I’m more of a Laurie Elliott.”

 

He should have seen it coming, really. Lydia and Dr B were known lovers of the opera, but he still managed to be surprised when he found them sitting in the seats right next to their four empty ones in the box.

 

“Oh hola, Schneider, Avery,” his friend’s accented voice rang out as she stood, twirling on the spot to greet them, her gown swishing a little.

 

“Lydia, Dr Berkowitz, hello,” Avery smiled politely, if a little puzzled, “What a nice surprise.”

 

Schneider could feel the intrigued gazes of Avery’s parents right behind them. Clearing his throat, he took Lydia’s hand and gently guided her a little closer.

 

“Lydia, Dr B, I’d like you to meet Avery’s parents, Anthony and Maria Beaumont.”

 

The Beaumonts stepped forward, Avery’s dad reaching out a hand, “call me Tony, please.”

 

Dr Berkowitz seemed tickled by that, muttering something that sounded like, “Like the musical,” under his breath.

 

Ever the charmer, Lydia turned her dazzling smile to the couple as Dr Berkowitz, now composed, stepped closer, hand outstretched, “What a pleasure to meet you both.”

 

“Sí, yes, a pleasure,” Lydia agreed, also shaking both of their hands before gently patting Schneider on the cheek with her gloved palm, “Schneider has been awaiting this day.”

 

‘Awaiting’ was a generous word. ‘Dreading’ was probably a more accurate one. Schneider had never met a significant other’s parents before, and had been agonizing over it since Avery first suggested it. Lydia and Penelope may have had to deal with his multiple freak-outs over the last two weeks, leading up to tonight. Somehow, he was beginning to think that Lydia and Dr B’s presence here at this opera at this particular time, may not have been a happy coincidence after all.

 

Everyone sat down, the chairs conveniently arranged with four lined together on one side, and two on the other. Schneider sat on the outside of the four-chair row, Avery next to him, and her parents next to her. Lydia took the remaining outside chair in the other row, a short space separating her and Schneider, while Dr Berkowitz sat nearest the wall. Once settled, the two groups engaged in quiet chatter before Anthony leaned forward to address Lydia.

 

“So Lydia, it’s my understanding that you live in Mr Schneider’s building?”

 

Schneider winced. Avery’s father had insisted on adding the “Mr” to the front of his name, despite himself and Avery assuring him that he didn’t need to. Schneider also would put a lot more emphasis on his and Lydia’s relationship than just “living in the same building,” but he supposed that must have been the easiest way for Avery to describe it to her parents.

 

To her credit, Lydia did not seem put out by this description, nodding and smiling, “My daughter, grandchildren and I do, yes. But Señor Schneider is more than our landlord. He’s family.”

 

Schneider’s stomach swooped pleasantly, he never tiring of hearing the woman he had come to see as a mother, say the ‘F’ word and his name in the same sentence.

 

“Oh,” Maria replied, smiling gently, “That’s nice.”

 

It was. It was really, really nice.

 

He reached over and squeezed Lydia’s hand, trying to silently convey his gratitude for the sentiment and her presence here, on one of the most stressful times since his father’s last visit. He didn’t have to say that the familiar itch under his skin, the same one that almost had him reaching for the nearest alcoholic liquid, was particularly hard to ignore tonight.

 

“We have a few more minutes until curtain,” Anthony piped up after a beat, checking his watch before turning to them all, “Can I get anyone a drink? Honey? Mr Schneider?”

 

Schneider tried to ignore the pounding in his chest as he responded with a low, “No thank you.”

 

Avery shifted a little in her seat, “Um, maybe just a couple of waters please, Daddy?”

 

Anthony inclined his head a little at her, clearly puzzled, “But you always go for the Chardonnay, Junebug. You sure you and Mr Schneider—“

 

“Could you excuse me for a sec? Nature calls,” Schneider was up on his feet before he registered that his mouth was forming words, scrambling out of the box, hand digging into his suit pocket for his phone as he practically sprinted to the restroom, finding it thankfully empty. 

 

“Please pick up, please pick up,” he muttered as he paced in front of the sinks, phone glued to his ear, the dial tone thrumming with the beat of his racing heart.

 

“Please pick—”

 

_“Schneider?”_

His heart instantly began to slow at the sound of the familiar voice.

 

“Pen. Hi. What’s up, girl?”

 

There was a short pause where his best friend was no doubt evaluating his weirdness, whether it was regular Schneider-strange or something’s-wrong-Schneider-strange.

 

“Well you called me, dude,” she replied with a faux-surfer-dude tone before her voice grew serious, “What’s up? You okay?”

 

“A night at the opera,” he gasped out, leaning over the sinks and fighting the urge to press his forehead to the mirror.

 

“A great Queen album. Next.”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re not calling me for answers to help cheat in a quiz, are you?”

 

She knew well he wasn’t. She knew what tonight was. Was more than likely at least half-responsible for her mother’s presence. But she also knew that their little back and forth always helped calm him down from an impending spiral.

 

“I thought your mom was banned from the theatre for eating Dr B’s loopy lozanges?”

 

“Dr Berkowitz may have put in a good word, and a better wad of cash in some hands. Next?”

 

“Avery didn’t tell her parents I’m an alcoholic.”

 

There was a pause, then. He could picture her, sitting at her kitchen table, going over her to-do list for that week, a barely-touched glass of wine next to her half-empty bag of Cheetos and mountain of paperwork.

 

“How are you holding up?”

 

Her voice was low, but firm. Keeping him afloat in the sea of uncertainty that he was close to drowning in.

 

“He offered me a drink. Avery’s dad. He…didn’t know. It’s been three months—I can be around people drinking, Pen.”

 

“I know you can.”

 

He sighed, rubbing his free hand down his face.

 

“But she didn’t tell them anyway.”

 

Another pause, and a bit of rustling, as if she was moving from the table to the couch. Schneider watched her in his mind’s eye, the image clear as day. Or night, in his case.

 

“Maybe,” she began, her voice a little louder, “she was just waiting for the right time. Having them meet you, see how great you are, how being a recovering-alcoholic doesn’t define you.”

 

It was a good point. He knew it was. Pen always spoke sense. He just couldn’t always hear it.

 

“What if she’s ashamed of me, Penelope?”

 

He said it so softly that he was afraid she didn’t hear him. There was no way he was repeating it.

 

“Then she’s an idiot—sorry, I don’t mean that. What I mean is,” she sighed, Schneider could practically hear the cogs turning in her brain as she struggled to collect her thoughts, “I don’t think she’s ashamed of you, Schneider. She _would_ be an idiot to.  But I’ve met her. She’s no fool.”

 

“She’s dating me.” _How sound can her judgment be?_  he left unsaid.

 

“Yeah,” Penelope agreed, “like I said. She’s no fool.”

 

Warmth pooled in the pit of his stomach.

 

“Thanks, Pen.”

 

He caught his reflection in the mirror, eyes lingering on the soft smile that his best friend had put there.

 

He felt better. Stood straighter. Head held higher.

 

“It’s just a night at the opera,” he breathed into the phone, “I can do this.”

 

“Better than I ever could,” Penelope snorted, “all that Italian? Hard pass.”

 

Schneider chuckled, taking another deep breath.

 

“I just sent you some new dogs in wigs in case you need them though,” she continued, her tone knowing in a way that always surprised him.

 

“You’re the best, Pen.”

 

“I know. You can thank me by making sure Mami doesn’t get busted disturbing the peace again.”

 

“Deal.”

 

They exchanged quiet goodbyes before he took one last calming breath, staring himself dead in the eye for a moment, nodding determinedly and exiting the restroom, only to crash right into Avery who was lingering outside.

 

“Oh my god, sorry, are you okay?”

 

Schneider steadied her by gently gripping her shoulders.

 

“Yes, yeah I’m fine,” she muttered, placing her hands on his forearms.

 

Schneider searched her face, finding it unreadable, closed off in a way he didn’t think he had ever seen before. There was something written there, something important, but was written in a language that he couldn’t understand.

 

“Are _you_ okay?” She asked, breaking him from his reverie that reeked of foreboding that he really didn’t want to examine right now.

 

He knew they needed to have a conversation. But now was not the time. Now he had to go and put on his best game face and prove he was more than his disease.

 

“I’m good. Let’s go watch some sad Italians sing.”

 

~*~

 

Schneider ended up back at the Alvarezes’ apartment, because of course he did. The rest of the night had gone off without a hitch, he surprisingly not minding the opera, and Lydia and Dr B proving to be pleasant company for him and the Beaumonts. Avery had been the most quiet, giving him a soft peck on the cheek before following her parents back to the hotel. There was an unease between them, something which he hated to admit was not lost on anyone that evening.

 

He shook his head, trying to focus as he unraveled his tie, leaving it hanging loose around his neck, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt as well as his cuff-links, shedding his suit jacket and lowering himself onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Lydia had taken leave to go say goodnight to the kids and he wasn’t quite sure where Penelope was.

 

He rested his head on the back of the couch, his eyes slipping closed.

 

“Someone looks comfy,” a familiar voice said after a moment or two.

 

“I still maintain this couch is more comfortable than my bed,” he replied without opening his eyes, “and that’s covered in the finest cotton Egypt has to offer.”

 

He felt his best friend sit down next to him, her gaze boring a hole into the side of his face. He kept his eyes firmly shut.

 

“I think they liked me.”

 

“I know they did.”

 

“They probably won’t anymore when Avery tells them.”

 

His eyes flickered open as a soft pressure landed on his arm. He looked down, seeing Penelope’s hand there, it’s warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt, and fought the urge to grip it tight.

 

“You don’t know that, Schneider. Everyone has skeletons in their closet. No one is perfect. At least you’re owning up to, and working through, your mistakes. Helping yourself get better. Not everyone can say that.”

 

Again, she spoke sense. Again, he was a little deaf to it.

 

“What if she doesn’t want to tell them at all?”

 

He met her gaze, then. She seemed worried, maybe even a little sad.

 

“I can’t tell you that, Schneider. That’s for you to figure out. I’m sorry.”

 

“Corazón no cabezón, Schneider,” Lydia’s voice rang as she made her way through the hallway, back into the living room.

 

Penelope rolled her eyes and swiveled on the couch in exasperation, looking at her mother over her shoulder, “Ay mami, that doesn’t even make sense. You’re just saying it because it rhymes.”

 

“What’s she saying?” Schneider asked quietly, looking between mother and daughter and back again.

 

“Something like ‘heart not stubbornness’? I don’t know. It doesn’t translate perfectly. She’s just doing her motivational catchphrase crap again. Like a human bumper sticker that white girls slap on their cars.”

 

Lydia threw up her hands in retaliation, wrenching open her drapes with her usual flourish and disappearing behind them, shutting them with such force, she may as well have slammed a door.

 

Schneider closed his eyes again, sighing louder.

 

“I think,” Penelope began, turning back around to face him, “she means, don’t try and force things with Avery. Or feel like things gotta go a certain way. Follow your heart, not your head.”

 

“I thought it was head not beer?”

 

“Sí. That too,” Lydia called out from behind her curtain.

 

The two friends shared a laugh, Schneider blinking his eyes back open, catching Penelope’s gaze.

 

“Head not beer, heart not head. It _is_ good advice,” he conceded, biting his lip, “I just don’t know what to do with it.”

 

Before Penelope could respond, a soft knock came from the front door.

 

Patting his knee, she stood up and made her way over, unlocking the door and holding it open, not wholly surprised by who stood there.

 

“Avery. Hi.”

 

The bespectacled brunette gave an attempt at a smile, “Hi, Penelope. Sorry, I know it’s late, I was just up at Schneider’s place but…” she trailed off when she caught sight of her boyfriend sitting on the couch, wiping his hands nervously up and down his pant legs.

 

Penelope looked between them, stepping back, “We’ll give you two some space,” she murmured, before striding over to her mother’s curtain, grabbing the woman in question who was standing right behind it, and dragging her down the hallway.

 

“Ay Lupe, what—”

 

“Come on, Mami. Help me fold laundry.”

 

Schneider waited a beat for Avery to close the door and for the Alvarezes’ voices to fade.

 

“Your mom and dad get back to the hotel okay?”

 

She nodded, biting her lip, “They did, thanks…you mind if I sit?”

 

He gave a nod himself, scooting over a little to give her more than enough space beside him. She sat down at the very edge of the couch, folding her hands in her lap, her mouth opening and closing a little, as if she couldn’t decide what to say next.

 

“I think we need some space.”

 

“You didn’t tell them I’m an alcoholic.”

 

Their voices mingled in unison. Each took a breath, surprised by what the other had said. Avery recovered first.

 

“Well, I—I wanted them to meet you. Not…not make any snap judgments without getting to know you first.”

 

He knew he should have been digesting those words, making sense of, and appreciating what they meant, but all Schneider could think in that moment was how Penelope was right. Again. He really did need to listen to her more.

 

“My struggle with alcohol is part of who I am, Avery. Not everything I am, it doesn’t define me, but it is a big part. I’m not going to hide that.”

 

“I don’t expect you to.”

 

“Okay.”

 

They lapsed into silence.

 

Schneider broke it first this time, “You want space?”

 

She winced, shifting a little on the couch.

 

“I think…I think we need to reevaluate some things.”

 

He frowned.

 

“Like what?”

 

She gave him a flat look, turning fully to face him.

 

“Like the fact when you have a panic attack you run off to call Penelope. Instead of talking to your girlfriend.”

 

He gaped at her. But she wasn’t finished.

 

“And that you spend ninety-nine percent of your time here. Not in your own apartment, or my apartment, here. I lied just then, I didn’t go to your place first. I knew there was no point. I knew I’d find you here.”

 

“Avery—”

 

“And I explained it away, most times,” she cut across him, determined now, clearly on a roll, “I was okay with it, most times. The rescheduling of dinner because Alex broke his arm. I got that. You care about him and he was hurt. But then there were missed calls and texts and more missed dinners. You couldn’t make lunch because you were hanging with Elena. You clearly preferred us to have dinner here instead of trying my vegan casserole because Lydia was making her famous enchiladas and you wanted to finally beat Alex at some video game because his arm was in a sling.

 

“You talk at length about your demons at 3:30 in the morning with Penelope and then lie about it. Why is that, Schneider? Why is it that you’d rather confide in her, spend your time with her, and her family, when _I’m_ the one you’ve said you love and want to be with?”

 

His heart was in his throat. His eyes burned with unshed tears as he saw her begin to cry, her dark eyes large and shimmery behind her glasses, as she caught her breath, clearly not done.

 

“I think you need space to figure out what you really want, Schneider. Me? Or the Alvarezes.”

 

 _‘Because you can’t have both’_ was left unsaid but heard nonetheless.

 

“You can’t ask me to choose, Avery. Please.”

 

She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand, standing up and staring down at him.

 

“I don’t want to, Schneider. I really, really don’t. I like the Alvarezes. They’re good people, great people. But I—I won’t play second fiddle to them all the time. It’s not fair.”

 

She turned her back on him then. Making her way over towards the door.

 

“They’re my family.”

 

He spoke to the ground. Low, but even.

 

“And despite having five moms and a dad growing up…I never felt more loved and part of a family, than when I’m with them. I went from a sad, lonely, oddball to—to having a mom who loved me more than a glass of sherry or her Valentino bag. To having two amazing, wonderful kids who look up to me, come to me for guidance and support. Nobody ever looked to me, the addict, the screw up, for anything. But _they_ do. And—and Pen she…”

 

“She gets you. Better than anyone.”

 

Avery finished quietly, her back still turned.

 

His heart lurched painfully in his chest as it dawned on him that Avery definitely heard his and Penelope’s conversation from a few weeks ago. He felt hurt and betrayed that she had eavesdropped, but at the same time felt bad that he had lied to her about it. But he couldn’t betray Penelope like that. Not since the condo-debacle. Not ever again.

 

He knew what he had to do. What was the most fair. For him, and more importantly, for Avery.

 

He stood up, stepping forward a few paces to speak to Avery’s back, guilt and pain swirling in his gut. She was right. He had been unfair to her. That had to stop. So, closing his eyes, he said the words that were once so easy for him to say, but felt like a lead balloon sinking into the depths of his chest, now.

 

“To me, family is everything,” he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat, “And my family will always come first.”

 

Avery’s shoulders drooped.

 

“And you deserve someone who can make you their family. Who will put you first. But I don’t think I’m that guy, Avery. I’m sorry.”

 

She nodded, her whole body a line of tension as she whispered, “I’m sorry too, Schneider.”

 

With that, she took the final few steps towards the door and gently opened it, stepping through and closing it behind her with a soft snap.

 

That snap echoed in his ears all the same.

 

He stared at the door for what felt like an eternity.

 

“…Schneider?”

 

He saw Penelope out of his peripheral vision, standing close to the door of the kitchen.

 

“How much of that did you hear?”

 

Her silence spoke volumes.

 

He nodded, sniffing a little and clearing his throat.

 

“Goodnight, Pen.”

 

“Schneider—”

 

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” he halted at the door, not looking at her as he opened it.

 

“I just need to be alone for a bit.”

 

He stepped into the hallway and didn’t look back.

**Author's Note:**

> ...sorry. I think there may be one more part in this series. Watch this space. 
> 
> Part one is actually a direct continuation of this, where Pen goes to see Schneider, just FYI for people who haven't read it yet. My bad, I love me some non-linear time-lines.
> 
> Can't wait to hear what you think!


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